Chapter Soundtrack:
(You play the appropriate song when the number appears in the story.)

[1]: "The
Andromeda Strain" by Shadow Gallery

[2]: "Accolade II"
by Symphony X

[3]: "The Metal
Age" by Hammerfall

[4]: "The Chase"
by Queensryche

[5]: "Through the
Fire and the Flames" by DragonForce

[6]: "The Breeding
House" by Bruce Dickinson

Doctor Phluffles'
Pharmacy of Phun

The two left Chicago
far behind them as they headed east. Two motorcycles drove side by
side down the highway. The glorious sounds of Iron Maiden and Judas
Priest accompanied their trip down the road. Rob Stone felt the bike
throbbing like a woman between his legs, and the vibrations traveling
up his body. The red-maned Grimm Skullshatter had his beard blowing
in the wind.

"Hey, Grimm, where
are we heading?" Rob Stone asked, shouting over the thrumming of
the engine. "I'd rather not get lost like that time when we had to
fly out to that show out in Bermuda. Thankfully, we managed to get
back to Earth in one piece."

"We are heading
towards a rest stop frequented by my metal war-band and fellow Asatru
believers," Grimm replied. "A band of bikers called the Heathens.
Many of them have traveled here from Scandinavia so they may follow
the footsteps of their ancestors on these shores."

"Good to know metal
still has some fanatics," Rob replied. "So, what do we do after
that?"

"We find out whatever
Mick White is up to, and unleash the fury of the bear-shirt upon
him!" Grimm cackled. "If we need to, we'll hunt down all of his
wretched minions and offer them to the Gods of Metal!"

"Hell yeah!" Rob
pumped his fist in the air. "If there's one thing metal's great
for, it's getting you in the mood to crack some heads! Just like
those zombies we fought after that Miami show!"

"We are almost
there!" Grimm pointed to an exit sign. "Follow me, and I shall
take us to a garage and diner where the Heathens gather!"

The Viking pulled his
motorcycle off an exit ramp, with Rob following behind him. They
decelerated their motorcycles, pulling into the rest stop parking lot
in front of them. From the outside, it appeared like almost any other
rest stop along the interstate, only this one was cut into the woods
beside the highway. It was a large parking lot with a few roadside
facilities and lots of parking space. There was a parking lot full of
all manner of vehicles, from trucks to motorcycles to minivans. There
was a garage nearby. There was a small motel and a gas station, plus
a fast food joint. A sleek, single story metal building with the name
"Mimir's Diner" stood next to the garage. A number of
motorcycles were parked outside it.

"Ah, we shall rejoin
my comrades soon enough!" Grimm exclaimed. He pulled his bike,
Sleipnir, into an empty parking spot and stepped off. Rob Stone
followed him, and parked his Harley next to Grimm's. From the bikes
parked nearby, Stone expected to find a mass of leather clad bikers
inside the diner. The sleek diner itself looked like a relic from the
1950s, located at a corner of the rest stop that time forgot. Grimm
walked into the front door of the diner, expecting his brothers in
metal to greet him.

Inside, however, they
found no such thing. The bikers merely stared forward with empty
gazes affixed to their faces. The servers behind the counter
continued washing dishes and taking orders, but the bikers merely
stared at whatever direction they sat with empty gazes. Their
leather, tattoos, and unshaven features merely made them seem as some
sort of statues in a public exhibit into how metal-loving bikers
dressed and looked.

"My brothers!"
Grimm extended his hands. "I have returned with a true champion of
metal, Rob Stone himself!" He raised Rob's hand up high with his.

Grimm looked with
curiosity. None of them moved.

"Hey, guys," Rob
waved nervously. "You can stop the prank now."

There was not motion
from the gang. Rob felt the neck of the closest one for a pulse.
There was a faint one, almost like the biker was trying to hide the
fact he was alive.

"Those guys have been
like that for the last few hours," a waitress said from behind the
counter. "They ordered a round of wings, and someone came in, and
gave them a keg of beer."

"So someone, just out
of the blue, gives the bikers a keg?" Rob put his hand to his chin.
"I don't like this. I mean, who just gives bikers a keg randomly?
Last time something like this happened, some guy spiked it with
microscopic robots that hijacked your brain!"

"Think that's what
happened to them, then?" Grimm asked. "Some foul form of mind
control? Such a weapon would leave even the greatest warrior
helpless!"

"It could've
been spiked with a bunch of things," Rob replied. "Probably some
kind of drug." [1] He turned to the confused-looking
waitress. "Did you get a good look at the deliveryman?"

The waitress shook her
head. "No, but I know where the keg came from," she pointed to
the half drunken keg on the ground. It was a blue plastic one with an
opening on the bottom, and an address written on a label on the side.
"Phun-Time Liquor Store," it read above the street address. Rob
Stone and Grimm Skullshatter could detect a subtle, strange odor in
the booze. It was not just a strange scent, but something that just
didn't belong. It was easy to miss, so some thirsty bikers could
easily have missed it. Grimm dipped his finger in, and was about to
have a taste when Rob slapped it away.

"I think we're
better off checking out where this crap came from, Grimm," Rob
said. "You don't want to end up a vegetable like the rest of your
boys. We need to find out who did this to them, and why."

"I have some ideas,"
Grimm turned the keg around, revealing an index card attached to it.
"To the Heathen Motorcycle Club and Grimm Skullshatter: Free booze
from Dr. Phluffles!" he read aloud.

"What the hell?"
Rob asked. "I don't like this."

"I recall the name.
Dr. Phluffles is the source of most designer drugs over the last few
months," Grimm explained. "Bankrolled by Mick White, of course. I
fear that pharmaceutical weapons may be at our enemies' behest until
we smite him! This vile figure also is a member of some awful stoner
band, Sneezer."

"He was kind enough
to give us his address," Rob pointed out. "How about we drop by
and see if we can get him to fix your boys?"

"And if he doesn't,
then we smash his face in!" Grimm chuckled.

Rob nodded, and turned
to the waitress. "Hey, if these guys start raising as zombies, call
the cops."

The stunned waitress
stared at the two metal warriors as they left the diner behind them.
No sooner were the two outside than they saw a man standing in front
of them. He was a tall Asian man, with a white shirt and jeans on. He
had a cello slung across his back, and a Mauser C1896 pistol shoved
into his pocket. He had his jet black hair long, and blowing in the
wind. He stood confident, and his unassuming form radiated power. [2]

"Are you Rob Stone
and Grimm Skullshatter?" he nodded his head.

"Depends on who's
asking," Rob went to reach for his Annihilator pistol.

"Richard Li," the
man coolly said. "Heard you're back, and I'd like to offer my
assistance to you in anyway! I'm experienced with a cello, a violin,
most medical stuff, and antique Mauser pistols."

"State who you are,
and why you think we should give heed to anything you have to say,"
Grimm muttered, looking down.

Richard calmly looked
back at the Viking. "I'm a med school grad who used to play for
Olympiana Symphony."

Rob put his head to his
hands. He recalled hearing that name before. "Oh, right!" he
replied. "You guys opened for us back in New York two years ago! I
helped you fix up your tour bus, too. You've got some good potential.
A real kick ass symphonic metal setup! How's the band going?"

"Not well," Li
shook his head. "Our vocalist had his throat cut by zombies after
we refused a contract from this shady guy. We broke up since then."

"Only that he smelled
like more drugs than a pharmacy. And I've worked in pharmacies
before," Li nodded. "He looked pretty standard as far as hippies
go. Long hair, ragged tie-dye clothing, awful smell, and drives
around in a run down Volkswagen van. His van had "G-Town Band" on
it."

"I know that accursed
person, that vile troll-spawn who dares call himself a musician!"
Grimm pumped his fist in the air. "It's that wretched fool Charlie
Springer, and the G-Town Band!"

"Why am I not
surprised that moron from Jersey's wrapped up in all of this?" Rob
wiped his hand against his head. "This is worse than the time that
redneck country singer attacked us with his Klan goons!"

"Oh, damn!" Li's
jaw dropped. "You guys are wrapped up in deep shit!"

"Aye," Grimm
muttered. "If you've turned into a cowardly whelp, run, and do not
look back!"

"Hell no!" Richard
Li loaded up his Mauser. "Just because I do classical music and
symphony metal doesn't mean I don't know a threat to all good music!
I can appreciate good music from brutal death metal to power metal to
music by a bunch of dead guys! If each type of music is good, why not
combine them into something even more epic and awesome? It's like
awesomeness cubed!"

"Hmm," Rob mused.
"Well, Grimm, I'd say we need all the help we can get. I can vouch
for this guy's skill. I know not everyone's not as metal as the
Vikings, but there is some good music outside of metal."

"Fine," the skald
muttered. "Let us smite this idiotic Doctor, save the minds of my
war-band, and continue on our way! I shall give him a chance to prove
himself."

"Thanks, Mr. Stone! I
won't let you down, Mr. Skullshatter!" Richard Li pumped his hands
in the air. "You guys got a ride? I've got something that can fit
both of you."

"Both of us already
have bikes," Rob pointed his thumb towards his Harley out the
window. "But you have something else in mind?"

"Follow me!"
Richard Li directed. "There's something my band did have I managed
to keep."

He left the front door
of the diner, and Rob and Grimm followed him out of curiosity. They
followed the med school graduate outside to see a vehicle parked
around the side of the diner. It was a tour bus that looked very
familiar to Rob Stone. It was one he had helped fix up for the power
metal band "Symphony Olympiana." It was one of a few tour buses
he had helped retrofit and fix up, and definitely one he had pride
in.

In Rob Stone's view, a
tour bus should be a rolling temple to all that is metal. The outside
of the bus was far more forward than his own band's bus had been.
Since "Symphony" was an up and coming band, attention was often a
good thing for them. The sides and roof of the bus had a gray cloud
design, with Doric columns and arches shown. The logo for "Symphony
Olympiana" had been removed, replaced by more of the background.
Aside from the clouds and classical styled marble arches and columns,
various metal images were painted around the bus. There were bare
chested warriors holding swords and axes and protected by spiked
metal bracers and black leather pants. On the back of the bus was a
door that would unfold into a ramp, able to hold motorcycles. Stone
recalled he had also hidden several stereos, armor, and weapons
within the body of the bus to allow for greater metal effect. The
living quarters were also similar to his old tour bus.

"Grimm, it may not
look like much, but that bus is a rolling temple to the Gods of
Metal!" Rob pointed out. "We can stash our bikes in the back, and
ride in comfort!"

"Maybe I misjudged
you," he looked at Li. "But once we ride into glorious battle, we
shall see!"

"I won't let you guys
down!" he exclaimed. Li reached into his pocket, and tossed
something to Rob.

Rob swiped the object
in the air, and saw it was a keyring with a skull dangling from it.
Rob grinned, and looked at the bus. "So, you want me to drive?"

"Hell yeah, man!"
Li grinned. "You built this rig, so it's only fair you drive it!"

"Hey, Grimm, we can
stash our bikes on this," Rob pointed to the hatch on the rear.
"Let's pack up and roll out!" Rob pumped his fist in the air, and
the group moved their bikes into the rear. The rear of the bus opened
into a ramp with enough space to store quite a few supplies as well
as their bike. After securing their bikes, Rob directed everyone to
climb inside the tour bus. [3]

Rob entered the bus,
and found it was decorated similar to how he had originally remade
the bus from top to bottom. The insides had a posh blue carpet, black
leather furniture, a mini-bar and kitchen, fully stocked bathroom,
bunks, complete electronic entertainment system, damage sensors,
storage for musical instruments, computer system, rune engraved
medieval weapons and power tools mounted on the walls, weapon
controls, and all the other luxuries of home. The bus was larger on
the inside than it seemed on the outside, all due to the powers of
metal. The name "METALAGE" was written on the walls, with no
space. Rob tried to recall if it was supposed to be two words or one.

Grimm sat down on a
black leather couch and turned to Richard. "I must say Rob Stone
did a good job with this place," the skald complimented. "He must
respect your work."

"I can play some
stuff now, if you want!" Richard offered.

"Save it," Grimm
replied. "Rob's respect is enough for me. Let us man these weapons
stations and crush the enemies of metal!"

Rob found the address
of the Phun-Time Liquor Store on the computer, and then entered the
address of their target into the GPS. The bus pulled away from the
rest stop. Rob drive the bus towards the Phun-Time Liquor Store. The
metal bus thundered down the highway, a mobile temple to all that was
metal. Rob looked out the window and saw traffic thinning out. The
trees themselves seemed to wither and die the closer they got to the
liquor store. The GPS took them onto a deserted stretch of highway,
covered with potholes.

"Hey, guys, I want
you to be ready," Rob added. "This place doesn't bode well. It's
like that time I fought that zombie crime boss in New Orleans. Closer
we get to his pad, the less likely we encounter any living souls."

"Silence!" Grimm
shouted. "Do not utter the name of such a disgusting tome! It
profanes all that is metal in this temple of metal!"

"Well, if any show
up, they'll probably be roadkill," Li nodded. "These machineguns
we're manning will make sure of that."

"Hey, guys, we've got
company!" Rob shouted. "I can see a bunch of vans in the rear
view mirror."

Richard and Grimm
looked out the windows to see a small convoy of tie-dye Volkswagen
vans. Rich and Li took position controlling concealed gun turrets on
either side of the bus. Standing on the roof of each van was a glam
ghoul, still dressed in similar fashions to what they had seen in
Chicago. Driving the vans were ancient hippies dressed in ragged
tie-dye. Many held kukri knives, and others had double barreled
shotguns and M16s. It was obvious they didn't intend to come in
peace. Some vans had the letters "SS" written in bubbly,
psychodelic text within two halves of a hippie peace symbol.

"Ah! Battle! Come,
fellow metal warriors! Let us send them to the Frost-queen's Realm!"
Grimm used the control console to aim one of the vehicle's mounted
machineguns. "They may take drugs, but they still pale in
comparison to a real berserker!"

Rob saw the hippie vans
accelerate alongside the tour bus. [4] Two vans tried
surrounding them on either side, and one van remained at the front
and rear of the bus. They were trying to box the larger vehicle in.
The side windows of the vans opened up, and the muzzles of M16s and
shotguns protruded from the hippie terror wagons. They opened fire
on the armored sides of the bus. Rich and Grimm answered with a salvo
of their own, using their M2 machineguns to spray the hippie vans.
The bullets put dents in the sides, but the vans were more armored
than they looked.

"These bullets aren't
doing shit!" Li exclaimed.

"Aim for their tires
and engine blocks!" Rob shouted back.

Grimm and Li lowered
the muzzles of both of their guns, spraying half inch bullets into
the tires and engine blocks of the hippie-mercenary convoy. One of
the vans alongside them peeled off, and then exploded. Another van
hit the guard rail, and spun into the air before Grimm blasted its
fuel tank, causing it to explode in midair. The shrapnel made the
rest of the hippie transports swerve out of the way, and drop back
behind the bus.

The hippies stopped
firing as the bus speed past them, but they were not without another
method of attack. The ghouls riding on top of the vans all began to
leap onto the the bus. They bared their fangs and claws, prepared to
rip through the top of the bus to get at the tasty morsels within.
Some of the glam ghouls were disintegrated into glitter and gore by
the barrage of machinegun fire, but some made it to the top of the
bus.

Recalling that the
armor on the top was not as thick, Rob pulled out his Annihilator
pistol. "Shit! We've got ghouls on the roof! Shoot any guns you've
got up!" he shouted. "Drive 'em off! This is worse than that time
those undead pirates trashed that show we did on that cruise ship!"

Rob heard the sounds of
something skittering on the roof, and something trying to peel the
metal. The roof was one part he realized he should have armored
better. There was a high pitched shriek as the glam ghouls began to
peel open the roof. Seeing dents in the ceiling above the driver's
seat, Rob blasted upwards with his pistol. The gun blasts turned the
roof into Swiss cheese, and he could hear the hissing and whining of
wounded ghouls.

Behind him, Rich and
Grimm were holding off the ghouls and hippies in their own ways. Rich
had one hand holding down the trigger of the machinegun, while he
used his Mauser in his other hand to spray lead into the roof. Grimm
had tied the trigger of the machinegun down, and used both of his
hands to hold his bayoneted rifle, Gungnir. He jammed it into the
bullet holes that Richard created, pulling back the weapon's tip
covered in blood every time. He knew he impaled a ghoul when the
bayonet met some resistance. In that case, he would pull the trigger
and retract the spear, and move to another bullet hole. The Norseman
grinned as chaotic sounds filled the air. There was the sickly
penetration of ghouls with a bayonet, the staccato of gunfire, and
thrumming of the vehicle engines.

Finally, the roof was
silent, but they had other problems. Rob looked ahead and saw the
remaining hippie vans had set up a roadblock in front of him. The
hippies had gotten out of their vehicles, and all aimed their rifles
and shotguns at the bus speeding towards them. They began to open
fire, unleashing a wall of lead directly at the front of the tour
bus.

"Oh, shit," Rob
muttered to himself, diving beneath the window. There was a storm of
glass shards as the barrage of lead shattered the windshield. Shards
cut into his skin, but Rob focused on a surprise he built in to the
bus. [5]

"Grimm, Li, shoot at
the vans!" he shouted to the back of the bus.

He pushed a button, and
extra fuel from the gas tanks began to leak out behind the bus. He
had outfitted the engine into a much more fuel efficient hybrid, so
the fuel tanks could double as a special surprise if necessary.
Leaking a trail of gasoline behind him, he stomped the gas with his
foot. While it did not look like it, the front of the bus was
reinforced and intended to double as a ram. The hippies kept firing,
and many began to flee away from the path of the charging tour bus.
The two guns on the side of the bus cut down anyone foolish enough to
remain in the front of the vehicle's path.

The momentum of the bus
smashed through the puny Volkswagen vans, reducing them to wrecks
flying through the air. Rob pumped his fist in the air. The front of
the bus was dented, but it was definitely still drivable. Glad his
design held, Rob quickly looked at the hippies shaking their hands
and empty guns at him. He flipped them the bird as he pushed another
button. A spark from the rear of the bus ignited the gasoline trail
behind it. A gigantic fireball blossomed up behind the bus, and Rob
saw the Metal Gods had been appeased. Smoldering vans and flaming
hippie mercenaries flew through the air behind them, as Rob turned on
some DragonForce to celebrate the explosion.

Quickly looking behind
them, Rob saw there was no more pursuers.

"Good work, guys! I
don't think we have to worry about any more of those assholes!" he
shouted back. "I have to say, Rich, this has got to be what power
metal is made for!"

"Hell yeah, man!"
Li said. "So, what did you think, Grimm?"

"I underestimated
you," the skald bowed his head, knelt down, and raised his rifle to
the sky. "In the name of Odin, I formally welcome you to my
warband!"

"Thanks, man!" Rich
replied, kneeling down before the Viking. "You're the most metal
guy I know. Aside from Rob here, of course."

"We're almost there,"
Rob said. "I'd grab your guns. We're going to need firepower if
more of those assholes show up."

Rich and Grimm nodded,
got up, and readied their weapons. Rob drove down the road, and took
a decaying overpass to get off the pothole-filled highway. He saw the
road would pretty much directly lead to their destination. The closer
he got, the less metal he felt. The dead foliage around the road
seemed to seem more withered the closer he got.

Eventually, he could
see the structure he presumed was the Phun-Time Liquor Store. From a
distance, it was just a roadside dive with no cars parked out front.
It was located in an otherwise empty concrete strip mall. The store
itself had a faded neon sign in the window reading "OPEN." The
windows were opaque, which probably meant the inside would show them
the true horror of the store. There was no mascot or distinctive logo
Rob could identify.

He parked the bus in
the lot, and nervously looked around. He pulled the keys from the
ignition, and instituted a failsafe built into the bus. If anyone
tried to hotwire the bus, it would blow up. Since the front windows
and parts of the roof were missing, some additional security was a
good idea. He grabbed the Annihilator, cracked his knuckles in the
Fists of Metal gloves, and slung Terminus Est over his back. Grimm
and Richard reloaded their guns and followed.

Rob walked towards the
front door. The normalcy of the front door disturbed Rob. The fact
the door was so similar to any other roadside store seemed a sort of
cosmic backlash against how surreal their surroundings were. Whatever
the man calling himself "Dr. Phluffles" was up to, it was not
good, and probably warping reality on some level. Feeling the
reassuring pistol on his hip, Rob threw open the door and walked in.
Grimm and Rich followed, weapons up and ready.

Inside, there was an
intense source of light. The drastic change in lightning from outside
was the least surreal thing to assault their senses. They appeared to
be standing on a hilltop made of cheap Astroturf, with gigantic
syringes, bongs, and pills sticking out of the ground. Rolling hills
of Astroturf with the primary form of terrain in all directions. The
door they had entered through seemed to have no building connected
to it, just sitting in the middle of an empty field. The sky was a
clear blue, with white clouds that resembled wisps of smoke from a
cigarettes and joints. Some of the bongs partially embedded in the
ground bellowed up their own clouds of pure white smoke.

While almost blindingly
bright elsewhere, it was oddly easy to stare directly at the sun
itself. The sun itself was a cartoonish smiley face, only with a
joint in its mouth. It would periodically extend two almost oversized
hands from its underside, and grab one of the syringes, inject it
into its arteries, and put it back again. No matter which way they
moved, the background always seemed to remain at a constant distance.

"Holy fuck!" Rob
exclaimed. "What the hell is going on here? This is more surreal
than the time that evil hippie sprayed LSD in my face!"

Off in the distance, a
flying figure came into view. Rob looked at it closer. It was a man
with one of the strangest appearances Rob had ever seen, which was
saying something. He was a pale skinned man with a freckled face and
brown hair. He had a Santa hat on his head, with the letters "Dr.
Ph" emblazoned in gold just above the forehead. He wore a red polo
shirt with a tag reading "Great Seducer" on the breast pocket. He
wore dirty-stained baseball pants with large white vertical stripes
and thinner red ones. His shoes were cleats, and his forearms bulged
with muscle that seemed to remain only on his hands. Most strange
about the man was how he moved. Both of his arms were bent upwards at
the elbow, and his hands were hanging freely in the air. He flapped
his hands up and down, which seemed to be the only explanation for
why he was flying. Strapped across his chest was a gold-covered
hookah covered in strange cuneiform-like characters.

"So, you're Dr.
Phluffles, I take it?" Rob pointed his pistol at him. "Why'd you
drug the Heathens? They ever do anything to you?"

Li raised his Mauser to
the demented pharmacist. "I'm sorry, man, but for crimes against
the English language, I'm going to have to put you out of your
misery," he pulled the hammer back. "Just what kind of crap are
you on, anyway?"

"Dr. Phluffles
smokes drugs in the Hookah of Hastur!" the demented man shouted.

"I
have heard of that accursed artifact!" Grimm shouted. "It was
made by a mad Arab, and makes the user's drug hallucinations become
real!"

"That
might explain this place, then," Rob added. "I remember you said
he was a member of some chicken-shit stoner band, Grimm. Think his
buddies are nearby?"

Just
then, two other figures appeared. Each burst out of the ground,
scattering Astroturf around them. While not as strange as the Doctor,
both were strange enough to be his friends. One of them stood as tall
as Grimm, but was lanky and high strung. The figure was a tall,
emaciated mime with a black and white striped shirt and face paint
on. The only color on his figure were the blood strains on his hands
and bits of gore stick in his shark-like sharped maul. A joint was
clenched between his jaws, and his eyes tracked all of them with sort
of nervous hunger.

The
other one looked strangely normal. He was an obese clown dressed in a
yellow, red, and blue suit. He had on a frilly neckband, a clown hat,
a red rubber nose, and white face paint. A moronic grin crossed his
face from ear to ear. He utterly reeked of alcohol. The only other
indication that something was off about him was the strange dark
spots on his suit. In one of his hands was an opened bottle of vodka,
and in the other was a traffic cone.

"Dr.
Phluffles' friends come!" he looked at each. "Munchies the
Marijuana Mime and Barfo the Booze Clown say hi! Band will beat you,
and we have fun with experiments!"

The
demonic mime and drunken clown both waved their hands in a half
hearted manner. They began to circle the trio.

"I
shall gleefully rid the earth of such scum!" the Norseman shouted.
"I shall take on that disgusting clown in a holmgang duel!"

Rob
pulled out Annihilator and charged at Dr. Phluffles while taking aim.
[6] The crazed
pharmacist materialized a baseball bat and returned to the ground.
Rob fired at the mad doctor, and strangely, each of his shots was
able to be deflected by the baseball bat. He depressed the trigger
several times, each shot blocked by the jibbering madman. The doctor
began materializing baseballs from nowhere, and then hit them with
his bat.

One
of them landed on the ground near Rob, and he looked down to notice a
detail he had missed before. The baseball was hissing, and it had a
lit fuse. This was a battle, Rob reminded himself, that logic had no
place in. Looking down, he cursed to himself, and dove for cover
behind a giant syringe as the baseball bomb exploded. The explosion
blasted Rob back, badly burning his shirt and denim vest.

As
Rob struggled to recover, Rich Li battled the vociferous mime.
Munchies charged at him with a silent battlecry, raising his white
gloved hands in the air as he dashed forwards at the classical
musician and symphonic metal fanatic. Li held the Mauser sideways,
and let the oddly directed recoil from one shot help him sweep the
weapon. A few bullets hit the mime, causing him to pause for an
instant. Li dove further backwards, out of the stoned creature's
grasp. Eventually, the weapon clicked empty, and Munchies jumped on
top of the prone med student. He slashed his claw like fingers across
Li's chest, causing him to grunt in pain. Li quickly countered by
smashing the mime in the face with his foot. He rolled out of the way
as the mime pounced where his had had just been. He kicked the mime
in the side of the head, and then pistol whipped the mime with the
butt of the Mauser. The mime dropped down, and Li quickly reloaded
and emptied the clip into the mime's face.

"Oh,
yeah!" he raised his hand.

Just
then, the sun shot out a hand towards Li. The cellist jumped to the
side, and the hand grabbed the mime's corpse. The strange world's sun
greedily devoured the corpse, and then the sun changed. Bits of mime
carnage fell from the sky. Its eyes became bloodshot. At the same
instant, Barfo the clown was fighting Grimm.

"Die
in Odin's name!" the berserker shouted.

The
Norseman charged with his bayonet towards the foul smelling clown.
The clown raised the narrow end of the traffic cone into his mouth,
and poured vodka into the other end. After chugging down a larger
amount of booze than what could have been in the bottle, he lowered
the traffic cone and leveled his head at Grimm Skullshatter. The
clown unleashed a torrent of vomit at the chest of the skald,
knocking him back with the force of a typhoon. The Norseman was
coated in acidic booze that burned every bit of exposed skin. He
summoned up the rage of his ancestors, and fired at the clown as he
charged. Barfo began spitting gobs of vomit at the Viking, causing
some of his shots to go wild. Eventually, Grimm made it the long
distance to the clown. He rammed the bayonet into the clown's large
beer gut, but the blade vanished inside. He fired, and the bullets
just bounced off the blubber. He smashed his rifle butt into the
clown's face, only to have Barfo block it with his traffic cone. The
clown then took another swig of vodka, and unleashed a quick blast of
booze at the Viking, blinding him.

"When
I can see you, I will kill you!" the Norseman shouted in anger.

Barfo
was about to smash Grimm's head with the bottle when the sun got
hungry again. A hand from the sun shot out, and grabbed the bloated
clown. Another hand shot out of the sun to lift the bloated drunk
into the sun's mouth. The sun began to chew, spitting out bits of
vomit and alcohol to the ground below. The sun began to vomit
randomly on the ground below, while shoveling chunks of Astroturf
randomly into its mouth.

Grimm
and Li helped get Rob back to his feet. He looked to see Dr.
Phluffles charging at him with the bat. Rich and Grimm sprayed
bullets at the demented pharmacist, only to find he blocked all their
shots with the bat. He was about to deliver a head strike to Rob with
the bat when the guitarist tried to counter. Using the Metal Fists,
he yanked the bat forwards, and then smashed it over his leg. Then,
he smashed Dr. Phluffles in the face with a hook punch, sending him
flying backwards. He drew out his guitar, and played a familiar chord
on it. He sprayed the prone Phluffles with bullets, just as the mad
doctor materialized another bat to defend himself.

The
bat caught most of the rounds and shattered, but the Doctor was
wounded. Before Rob Stone could deliver the coup de grace, the sun
grabbed him. Grimm and Richard took cover and moved out of the way as
the sun's hand reached near them. As Rob was yanked towards the
hungry, drug-addled sun, he considered what the source of the
nightmare was. He drew out the Annihilator, and carefully aimed a few
shots at something near Dr. Phluffles.

Suddenly,
everything vanished. They found themselves standing in the middle of
a run down store, with an improvised chemistry lab nearby. The bodies
of Barfo and Munchies sat dead on the floor. A quick glance outside
showed everything seemed normal again. Dr. Phluffles was mortally
wounded, and fell dead. The Hookah of Hastur, which Rob had been
aiming for, was now full of bullet holes.

"Good
riddance," Grimm smashed the cursed artifact with his massive foot,
crumpled it up in his hands, and tossed it into a nearby trashcan. "A
foul cursed artifact destroyed, more of Mick's minions sent to meet
their makers, and an insane drug dealing band annihilated. A good
day! Now, is there any information that can help us cure the
Heathens?"

Richard
Li saw a keg of alcohol next to the chemistry set, and noticed a few
lab notes. The handwriting was hard to follow, but not as bad as some
doctors he had seen. "I think I can whip a cure up," he said.
"Just give me a few minutes."

Rob
saw a number of notes on a nearby table. There was a list of business
dealings with Mick White, including hiring the Slaughter Squad and
assigning them to hunt down any of the musicians who opposed his
record outfit. Rob noticed a list of musicians that Mick had written
down as a threat, and their suspected locations. There was also a
list of the bands and individuals that Mick was bankrolling. Not
surprisingly, Charlie Springer and the G-Town Band were at the top of
that list. After Rich had made enough antidote, the group returned to
Mimir's Diner. There was much rejoicing, and the tour bus was fixed
up for free by the Heathens. The three sat in the diner after the
festivities had ended.

"So,
Grimm, are you going to stay here with the Heathens?" Rob asked.

"Alas,
destiny calls, and the fate of metal still lies in the balance,"
Grimm replied. "Mick still draws breath, and any who dare mess with
the Heathens draw down the fury of the Aesir themselves!"

"That's
good, because I could use a good metal warrior like you at my side,"
Stone grinned. "We're not the only ones that Mick's got it in for.
If we can find some of his other enemies, we can join forces and
stand against him! For glory, for metal, and for good music
everywhere! Not all of them are in metal, but as long as Mick hates
them, they're at least worth paying a visit to."

"Hell
yeah!" Rich nodded, playing an air guitar. "Count me in! Touring
with you guys on that bus is going to rock!"

"I
feel that this is only the beginning of our metal journey," Grimm
added. "While my own ideas prejudiced me, I will not let that same
mistake happen again. We must crush the enemies of all metal before
we may rest!"

"At
least for now," Grimm Skullshatter shrugged. "The only lesson I'd
say is not to trust sleazy people with reality distorting drug
hallucinations. There are still sinister forces at work. That was how
that fool pharmacist got a hold of an artifact as powerful as the
Hookah of Hastur. But Lord Odin the All-Father and metal shall lead
us to victory."

"Well, guys, let's
roll out!" Rob Stone raised his fist into the air. "Thanks to all
of you Heathens, and we'll see you at our next concert!"

The group left the
diner, and the tour bus continued on its way. The metal odyssey of
Rob Stone had one just begun.

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